


A Change In The Tide (I won't go down your blushing bride)

by violent_ends



Series: Devil, Devil [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, First Time, Grinding, Oral Sex, POV Chloe, POV Chloe Decker, Post-Season/Series 04, Sexual Content, Smut, Soft Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), fuckruary2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:25:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22512760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/pseuds/violent_ends
Summary: They don’t fall into bed right away, once he's back – the Devil and his Detective, the Detective and her Devil, this mismatched duo of anything-but-superheroes, partners turned lovers, angel and human; just two people, in the end, two people who messed up so badly over the years that it’s a wonder for them to be here right now, together.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Devil, Devil [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619773
Comments: 44
Kudos: 376





	A Change In The Tide (I won't go down your blushing bride)

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 1 of my 4-piece Deckerstar series (post Lucifer's implied return from Hell) written for Fuckruary 2020. All secondary titles are lyrics from _Devil, Devil_ by MILCK, a song featured on the show.
> 
> Sugar prompt #1: desire + Spice prompt #4: grinding

They don’t fall into bed right away, once he’s back, the harsh reality subverting the dreams and fantasies and expectations Chloe has entertained in his absence.

Lucifer doesn’t burst through her apartment’s door to gather her in his arms and carry her to her bedroom; doesn’t appear out of thin air to crowd her against a door or a wall or the kitchen counter, lifting her up as if she weighs nothing and thrusting his tongue into her mouth in a way he never, _never_ allowed himself to do (she wonders if he would have, given more time, but all their previous kisses have been little, stolen things, like rounded pieces of colored glass buried in the sand and destined to get washed away with the tide).

Lucifer _does_ burst through her door, but Chloe is the one gathering him in her arms as he falls to the floor from exhaustion, a heap of trembling limbs and bloodied, ash-covered feathers with frantic eyes that can’t even manage to settle on her for a second as they scan the room in a fit of panic, looking for new threats. Calming him down and cleaning him up require a village, one made of an angel, a demon and a therapist.

Lucifer becomes her partner again, and has sessions with Linda at least twice or thrice a week after work. Sometimes he goes back to the penthouse, and Chloe finds him at her desk the next day, bright smile in place as the great actor that he is; the best of them, although not in the way Ella imagines. Other times, he lets himself into her house and asks to sleep in Chloe’s bed, wrapped around her like a castaway clinging to a piece of wood floating in the middle of the ocean.

On these nights they kiss and kiss and kiss with a tenderness that makes her want to cry, partly in frustration, but mostly from aching, almost painful adoration and longing for him as she soothes and heals scars she can’t even see.

And Lucifer wants her, he does. Desire grows and pulses unmistakably between his legs before he schools himself through harsh breaths, detaching his hips from hers to gently turn her around in his embrace and plant a goodnight kiss in her hair.

Chloe doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, doesn’t get if he’s the one who's not ready or if he thinks she isn’t. All she knows is that she falls asleep throbbing between her legs, aching for him, wishing he would stop treating her like some kind of precious flower; wishing, for once, to be seen as Eve instead, a fun and spontaneous woman to make out with in front of everyone in a crowded outdoor gym (and Chloe isn’t like that, this she will admit, but it doesn’t make a lot of difference).

Lucifer is wrapped around her once again, now, barechested in her bed. The alarm will go off soon, but Chloe woke up before it, gasping at the feeling of Lucifer’s hardness pressed between her cheeks through his silk pyjama pants and her soft cotton ones. He has one arm stretched under her neck and the other tight around her waist, hips grinding in little, stuttering movements in his sleep. His hand, warm and splayed over her belly, is setting her skin on fire.

Chloe sighs and gently falls into his unconscious rhythm, closing her eyes to fully surrender to the sensation. Their legs are intertwined like vines under the sheets, ankles brushing sweetly, but she wants more of him, all of him. Without thinking, she lifts one arm to tangle her fingers through Lucifer’s hair and press him closer, shifting so that she can feel his hot breath in her ear.

She tightens her fingers until she feels him stirring, waking up with an unintelligible mumble before stilling with a sharp intake of breath.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to, I-"

“Lucifer.”

She says his name with all the commanding determination she possesses, hoping it will be enough to make him understand that he can have this, if he wants it. Have _her_. Her arm moves from his head to his ass, pressing him closer. Lucifer groans in her ear and grows even harder between his legs, his arm tightening involuntarily around her waist to rut against her.

“Chloe,” is all he says, voice gloriously wrecked already, made thicker by lingering sleepiness and mounting arousal. It’s a plea against the shell of her ear, but for this he has no need to beg.

Chloe tilts her head back and kisses him. It seems to be permission enough.

She swallows his moans eagerly, starved as she is, cupping his stubbled cheek to keep him close as they kiss. Their hips move slowly, languidly as they mirror their tongues, despite the fact that they actually don’t have a lot of time. She realizes they can’t do what she desperately wishes they could, not if they want to savor it and enjoy it, but she quickly decides she’ll take what she can get.

Oddly enough, the ache between her legs goes forgotten for a moment as she revels in the sounds she can pull out of him by simply meeting his hips in kind with her own, by simply offering her body to him in the dream-like stillness of the morning. But Lucifer doesn’t find contentment in his own desire, as Chloe always suspected when she allowed her mind to wander and imagine.

His hand trails down slowly, lingering at the hem of her pants to give her time to object, before slipping inside. He doesn’t break the boundary that is her underwear, but settles for cupping her through her panties, pressing her closer to him as his other arm curls around her from under her body. Chloe can sense his hesitation even as his arm slips under her pyjama top: his hand comes to rest just below her breasts, fingers twitching, which is absurd considering his other hand is already down the front of her pants.

Whatever the reason, she’ll give encouragement if it’s what he needs. She lowers her arm from his hair to find his hand and lead it to her breast, holding it there until he squeezes the soft skin under his palm with a broken moan, nuzzling at her cheek and neck. He grows bolder then, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger while simultaneously pressing in with his other hand, not fully inside but deep enough to feel her wetness through the thin fabric of her underwear.

Chloe whimpers, wishing he would just push it to the side and fuck her with his hand until she forgets her own name and the only thing she can say is his instead, tripping over the syllables and drawing out the last one in the ecstasy of climax. _Lucifer_, she’d whine and moan and cry out – Lucifer the nightclub owner and police consultant; Lucifer the Devil of the Bible; Lucifer the fallen angel of Dante’s Inferno trapped in a crater of ice; Lucifer the Prince of Darkness and King of Hell; Lucifer the bringer of light and Star of the Morning.

_Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer._

_Her_ Lucifer.

But then he speaks, and she realizes he doesn’t even need to do more than what he's already doing to make her come undone: his voice alone could do the trick.

“I want you so bad” Lucifer whispers in her ear as he rolls and grinds and pushes, his body a long, strong and solid vice around her, holding her in a grip she would gladly die in. “Don’t ever think I don’t, not even for a bloody moment. This- _this_ is what the Devil _truly_ desires. _You_.”

It’s the match that lights the flame. Chloe abruptly turns in his embrace, enduring the loss of his talented fingers from her most sensitive spots, to push him to lie on his back so she can straddle him. Lucifer’s eyes grow darker, hooded, as he grips her hips and moves her along with him until he’s sitting against the headboard with Chloe rocking in his lap. She can finally feel him, truly _feel_ him where she wants him, thick and hard and burning hot with blood and lust, for _her_.

And since he opened up to her, revealing his deepest and darkest desire, Chloe figures it’s only fair to do the same in return. With her arms around his neck, she leans in and whispers the simple truth in his ear, without any hint of shame.

“I can’t wait for you to be inside me, Lucifer. It’s all I ever think about.”

The look Lucifer gives her when he pulls back is something between surprise and anguish, as if she just said something utterly impossible. Caught by a sudden frenzy, he reaches down to pull her top over her head and bends forward to suck one of her nipples in his mouth, one hand firm on her lower back as the other teases and plays with her other breast.

Chloe holds him close by the back of his head and grinds harder against him, her little whimpers slowly turning to moans as he provides all the friction she needs. The pace of their movements increases, turns sloppier and messier, loses all the finesse and gentleness of the beginning. The alarm finally goes off but they simply ignore it until it stops, now made aware that they’ll have to leave the bed and get ready for the day.

Lucifer kisses up her neck and jaw until his lips find Chloe’s again, tongue harsh and demanding as she wants it to be. There is such beauty and relief in his roughness, such power in his desperation, in the way he grips the back of her neck with one hand and her hip with the other to guide her and move her in his lap. Chloe’s muscles spasm and squeeze around him in a mad, fluttering rhythm, drawing her closer, and closer, and closer just from this, just from persistent, relentless dry-humping.

“Let me come over again tonight" Lucifer urges between kisses, panting against her lips. “Let me make love to you, Detective.”

Her title at the end of such a sentence should and probably does sound ridiculous, but it’s so _him_, so _them_: the Devil and his Detective, the Detective and her Devil, this mismatched duo of anything-but-superheroes, partners turned lovers, angel and human; just two people, in the end, two people who messed up so badly over the years that it’s a wonder for them to be here right now, together.

Yet they are, and neither of them is perfect – far from it. She could argue they are not even perfect for each other, and the truth of it lies in their bones and blood and flesh, in their very own DNA. She’ll grow old and he will not. She’ll die and he will not. She’ll (hopefully) go to Heaven and he will not. But this is what they chose, this time that feels as stolen as their kisses back when she didn’t know of the hellish fire in his veins.

And it’s so _them_, too, to have such awful timing, trying to make each other come in a haste not to be late, clutching at each other with fingernails that will probably draw blood (hers and his – her gift and her curse) to slot their clothed groins together, not even bothering to properly undress. But he'll wait, to be inside her; he’ll make it good and slow, and rightfully so, because if there’s one thing they deserve to take their sweet time doing, it’s that.

“Yes" she tells him, the only answer that is acceptable. “Please.”

He laughs at her eagerness, but not mockingly, shaking his head as if to say _There’s no need for that_. The sound is music to Chloe’s ears, and Lucifer’s eyes are shining as they stare into hers. She thinks there might be unshed tears in them, same as on the balcony when he left, when he kissed her goodbye. But he’s here now, wrapped around her, clinging to her, and she finds herself telling him what she already told him back then to finally give the sentence the happy meaning it deserves.

“I love you" she sighs, brushing dark, messy hair away from his forehead before cupping his jaw, her thumb stroking his sharp cheekbone. “I love you, so much. Thank you for coming back. Thank you for being here.”

He’s overwhelmed, but it’s okay. Chloe doesn’t mind his lack of an answer; she almost finds it endearing. Lucifer buries his face in the crook of her neck to hide his emotions from her, but they are plain and evident in everything he's doing, in the way his breath and movements stuttered at the words before resuming, in the way his hands suddenly cling to her harder.

“I'm close" she lets him know as she tethers on the edge, her head thrown back to leave him space to kiss and mouth at her neck, the skin vibrating to the sound of his low groans as he thrusts up against her.

The hand Lucifer has on her hip trails up again to cup her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple with intent. Then he pushes her down on his lap from the back of her neck and holds her there, grinding against her one last time before whispering “I love you too, Chloe" like a secret in her ear.

Chloe lets out a pleased little laugh as she starts to come, riding him and the waves of her orgasm, holding him close to her chest. Lucifer tries to chase after her, but as she comes down, Chloe is very aware of how hard he still is, how desperately he’s trying to get there too, but maybe this kind of contact is not enough for him after all.

She looks at her alarm clock. They will be late. She decides she doesn’t care.

When she slides off of him, spreads his legs to lie down between them and reaches up for the hem of his pants, Lucifer cups her cheek and smiles down at her in that way that would make stars and planets shatter into a million pieces.

“It’s okay, darling, you don’t have to feel obligated.”

Yet his hips twitch uncomfortably, seeking friction against nothing, the front of his pants bulging near her hand.

“I don't" she tells him, then strokes his length through the fabric for a moment. “And I thought you said you want me.”

The choked-off noise Lucifer makes is such a sweet reward to her teasing, as well as the desperate look he gives her once she stares up into his eyes as she waits for his reply.

“I- I do" he croaks, breathless. She grins.

When she kisses his clothed erection for the very first time, soft and feather-like, his head thumps against the headboard and a blissed out sigh leaves his lips. It’s intoxicating, and she hasn’t even sucked him off yet.

“Do you want this, Lucifer?” Chloe asks him, feeling like she’s the Devil of the two, coaxing the truth out of him with mischief on the tip of her tongue. “Do you want my mouth on you?”

“_Yes_” he admits, carding his fingers in her hair in a silent request. Chloe finally grips the hem of his pants and tugs down, pulling them off his feet under the sheets before reappearing in his lap. This isn’t the first time she sees his cock – it _definitely_ isn’t – but it’s the first time she’s allowed to touch and taste, the first time she can do more than just look.

This isn’t a case he stripped off for in some misguided attempt at helping her solve it or to assist a man in need of clothes. There is no woman calling for him from the shower. There are no walls left in her heart, preventing her from falling for him as she already has.

Lucifer’s fingers are still tight in her hair, but not to guide her; it feels like he’s doing it to stay grounded, to hold on to this moment with her, to feel how real she is under his palm. Chloe welcomes him between her lips slowly, adjusting to his thickness and strong, musky, masculine taste, bobbing up and down and taking a bit more of him inside every time. Once she can’t go any lower, she starts building up a rhythm, and Lucifer _loses_ it.

“_Chloe,_” he growls, finally finding the courage to guide her head, accompanying her movements. “_Fuck_, you feel so good.”  
  
It’s very rare to hear him swear this way; it almost never happens, given the Britishness he decided to claim for his own. Knowing she was the one to make him lose his composure this way makes Chloe moan approvingly around him; if she had more time to wait for her soreness to pass, she would gladly allow herself to come again like this, just from this, just from the feel and sound of him coming apart in her mouth.

But he is already close, thanks to all the grinding that preceded this spur-of-the-moment decision, and Chloe will consider herself satisfied by his pleasure, by how good she can make him feel, by the promise of what’s to come later tonight. A _lot_ of coming, hopefully.

“Detective, first and final warning" Lucifer jokes with a chuckle, his voice rough, his grip on her hair softening. Chloe just hums to let him know she heard him, and sucks harder.

His whole body tenses up, head thrown back as she sneaks a peek at him, his glorious neck and collarbones on full display for her as he comes. He looks beautiful like this, more than he usually does, releasing the pent-up energy of a supernova exploding. He’s all taut and sharp lines of muscle and bone, with wings of more than one kind hidden from view, but his face is open and honest right now, and for a moment he’s nothing but human with her, for her, because of her.

He’s not the serpent of the Scriptures. He’s not the monster of misleading pictures and books.

He’s just Lucifer.

_Her_ Lucifer.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Her Lucifer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062299) by [thepoisonofgod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepoisonofgod/pseuds/thepoisonofgod)


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